Provoked, doomed, irresistible
by anangelface
Summary: Hermione was rescued by someone unexpectet, whereupon her life changed dramatically. Translation from the german story 'Provoziert. Verdammt. Unwiderstehlich.' from the writer 'houseghost'. Rating for reason!
1. Always know, never forgive

Hi there, this is another story I want to translate. My native language is not english, so please be kind.

Hope you enjoy!

The story of Harry Potter and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

The poem 'fear' belongs to houseghost who has written this wunderful story.

Translation: Provoked. Doomed. Irresistible.

Chapter 1

Always know, never forgive

* * *

My soul is dark, splintered my heart.  
He did what he did.

A shame.  
A secret, hardly known.

I'll always know, never forgive.  
And he is still there, haunting me in my dreams.

* * *

Hermione heard footsteps and opened her eyes.  
She still lay bleeding on the floor, just at the point where they had left her.  
She wanted to die. But - ironically - she was alive.

The sound of boots on the cold, hard stone floor came closer and made her shudder. Full of pain she raised her head and looked around. Her heart beated faster as she recognized the outline of a black figure that rose out of the darkness.

The steps died away near her.  
My God! If she only could have run away, not to mention disapparating. But she was too hurt to think clearly.  
Her head was heavy, the eyelashes flickered under the load they had to carry. She was on the verge of fainting.  
Not here, not now!

A disapproving growl sounded in her ear, and she recognized the emotionless face of her professor. Familiar, yet too unreal to be true.  
Snape.  
Was it her fault that she was here, shipped half naked for everyone who came along?

The rustle of his robes pulled her out of her thoughts. He had lost them and was going to put them over her body to cover it.  
She let him and welcomed the warmth of the thick heavy fabric.  
He still had not spoken. Hermione did the same.  
For a moment there was absolute silence.  
He looked at her, with those piercing black eyes that seemed to burn holes into her mind, without even saying a word. Motionless and still. Only his nostrils quivered.  
He bent down to her, the face masked immediately from the long unkempt tresses, reaching for her hand. His skin was warm and rough, almost sensual - who would have thought?  
She trembled and he pulled her up to him.  
It was disturbing. It was all he did, embed her in his arms, just to disappear with her, into the shadows of darkness.

Time seemed to stand still as she lay in his arms and he took her away. From here to there, without leaving a trace.  
She hid her face in the hollow of his shoulder and felt a sense of security, which allowed her for the first time to breathe free.  
He pressed her to his chest, so that she could smell his fragrance, spicy and masculine.  
So they went away, in the swirl of time, supported by his arbitrariness.  
Finally, after a sheer eternity, they reached their destination.  
Snape landed with both feet on the floor, inside a strange house and took her to a shabby sofa on which he placed her carefully.  
As he was about to turn around, her nails dug into the black cloth of his coat that covered his arms.  
He gave her an appraising look with his dark eyes, his brows drawn together firmly in the middle, so that a deep furrow was forming between them.  
Hermione felt cold float in her and let her tears fall. All she wanted to feel was the closeness and warmth of her hated professor.

She had often done things she should not have done. And especially now, in this moment, in which everything was so strange and horrible, she felt the urge to act against all odds.  
He jerked at his arm, wanted to pull away from her, but she did not let go, looked pleadingly at him, while salty tears run down her cheeks incessantly.  
"If you do not stop, I am forced to use a calming spell, Miss Granger."  
She swallowed.  
In slow motion her cramped fingers broke away from him, still echoed by his bitter words inside her. A voice so deep and precise, that made her shudder.  
He was an apparently lifeless and cruel man.  
But he had saved her.


	2. Fear creeping through my veins

The story of Harry Potter and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

The poem 'fear' belongs to houseghost. It is released on another webside. You can find the first part of it in chapter one, the second part here.

Enjoy :)

* * *

Chapter 2

Fear creeping through my veins

* * *

Fear creeps through my veins,

shakes the chains of my freedom.

The smell of betrayal stuck to his hands,

like the rats deadly plague that refreshes itself gnawing in my bones.

The stream of tears that ran over Hermione's face would not stop. It was too much for her, the rescue at the last second to unexpected, to avoid leaving traces inside of her. She had already withstood some adventure, but this experience was by far the most terrible of them.  
She still lay on the threadbare sofa in this strange house. Snape knelt beside her on the floor and rolled his eyes. Slowly but surely, he seemed to lose his patience with her.  
Eventually he firmly grabbed her by the shoulders and looked at her. "Tear yourself together." His voice was very quiet but also very serious.  
Timidly, she took her lip between her teeth and stared into the hated face of her professor, who was at this time her only support.  
"Did you hear me, Miss Granger?"  
Hermione could not speak and blinked helplessly and with moderate success her tears aside. What had happened, what they did to her, was going simply too deep ...  
He pulled back the corners of his mouth and let go of her. His jaw worked hard and for a while it was completely silent between them.  
What was going on in him? What might he be thinking about her? She did not dare to ask for it. Her own life has been pulled past her, like the successive frames of a movie.  
He was a dark creature that loathed life and enjoy of it, if you could believe the words of the people. Even she had seen him too often from this side, whenever he had exposed her.  
But here he was. With her. And she with him. And somehow he seemed to understand it. His cautious approach, the way he had lifted her and pushed on, became too clear.  
What was it about him, this professor who was working for Dumbledore? Something unexpected, things that she could not interpret.  
"Do you want to freshen up?", he finally said, and with much milder view.  
She just shook her head and crouched together on the sofa, beside the kneeling figure in black robes.  
Again, time seemed to stand still, no one said a single word.  
What should she have said already? There were no words for what she felt ... Except maybe shame. Anger. Mourning.  
His long, thin fingers pushed through his hair. All of a sudden he looked clearly tense. "Can I just leave you alone?", he asked. "There is something - something I must do."  
She nodded dull, although she did not like the idea. She did not want him to went out, not wanting to be alone with the cold that was inside of her.  
He stood up. Tall and slender. The absence of his cloak made him seem even more surreal than it already was.  
"If you don't behave stupid, you'll be safe here."  
His words sounded strange for someone like him.

Caring.

Hermione looked after him as he silently and gracefully moved away from her, until he disappeared through the door.


	3. Fear creeping through my veins - part 2

Chapter 3  
Fear creeping through my veins - Part 2

Hermione looked around cautiously. She still lay curled up on the sofa. Alone, in a strange house. Quickly, she noticed that the room in which she found herself, was in far worse condition as she had assumed at first glance. And she did not even think of the dust that had spred everywhere.  
The curtains were - like the sofa and the brown carpet - worn and covered with a plurality of holes. She had no idea where she was, not even a glance from the milky windows allowed her to see something.  
The owner of the dump, to whomever it might belong, seemed not to care about how it looked here. The paint and the wallpaper, which was applied locally, flipped from the walls.  
Hermione did not feel comfortable in her skin, which was not surprising, after all, to what she had gone through. She still shivered at the thought of what would have happened if the professor had not found her.  
But how had she come only in this situation? She - who always had a plan in her pocket! Someone with her mind was not allowed such a thing to happen...  
She was scared. Fear that would take more and more control of her, crept slowly and like poison through her veins.  
With trembling hands she pressed her knees to her and remembered the moment of heat, that had taken control of her, as Snape had taken her in his arms and pressed her against him. He was the last person whom she would have expected in the event of a rescue.  
For a long moment she stared around her, without daring to take a foot off the couch, to look at a big, dark wood-shelv, which was crammed full of old books. She sat up, stretched her neck far forward, in order to be able to make out the words - it were clearly spell books, even in this house of a Muggle.  
Surprised she frowned on a photo frame, which stood in a corner on a pile of books. Inside was put an old, faded photograph of an unattractive woman with empty eyes and long, unkempt hair. Somehow it reminded her of someone, but Hermione could not think straight and stared lost at the picture.  
From that moment, she felt under the spell of the strange woman and did not realize how much time passed while she turned in her seat to sit and paying attention of nothing to what was happening around her.  
"Do you like it, Miss Granger?", she heard mocking words sink into her ear.  
Scared Hermione winced.  
Snape was only about four feet away from her and looked at her.  
When she peered up at him, her heart pounding, she realized that he was everywhere spattered with wet, red paint ... But - what was that?  
She stifled a cry when she realized that there was no paint. His black clothes covered his knuckles, but still his hands were blood soaked.  
Snape's icy look that burned into her eyes let her shiver and she pulled his long black cloak she wore on her body, since he had put it down, even more tightly around her.  
A thousand questions flooded her head. What had he done? Why looked he like that? Where had he been? Why had he even been away?  
The answers to her questions were not long in coming. Without a word, he pulled a wand from his sleeve that Hermione recognized as her own. She swallowed, but he apparently took no notice of it and threw it on her lap.  
"How - how did you get it," she stammered, terrified.  
He snorted and fell lazily beside her on the sofa.  
Hermione felt quite uncomfortable with all that blood. As was the fact to sit with her peculiar professor on a sofa, suddenly a no brainer.  
"Are these your first words that you want to address to me?" He asked quietly, almost amused. For someone who was from top to bottom stained with blood, it sounded too surreal.  
But his deep voice had something so venerable in itselve that her excitement vanished instantly. She could not explain how he had repeatedly managed it all the years before to bring her up the wall. Maybe she did not want to know why he had actually been gone. But the red that was sticking to him distraught her. Since he showed no signs of injury, she assumed that it was not his blood.  
"What?," she asked again.  
He slowly pushed his fingers through his hair. "Trade secret."  
Hermione nodded and bowed her head. It looked, as though she would have to be satisfied, first of all.


	4. Hope

Chapter 4  
Hope

For several minutes she was silent to herself and when she looked up, she saw that he had closed his eyes. He looked tired and distracted, very different from what she otherwise knew of him. That he was so solved in her presence surprised her. It was a clear sign that he was a living thing, quite contrary to the opinions and rumors that were circulating at Hogwarts and beyond.  
Hermione opened her mouth to speak. But it took time before a word escaped her lips. Still she was confused and scared.  
"Th-thank you," she finally stammered. Something she wanted to get rid of since she had arrived in this house, not knowing quite how she should do it. How could she talk to someone about what had happened to her? Especially with him, her cold, heartless professor. Panic spread through her. Did he know what had happened? She had to find out. But how? It was absurd that all the words failed her, though she had the feeling that she had to talk about it. She had never felt so exposed. So helpless.  
He opened his eyes and looked at her, as if no one ever thanked him. A hesitant nod came from his side. No more, no less.  
Suddenly she did not care. Was she not Hermione Granger? It seemed as if only a leap of faith could help to keep her from going crazy. She wanted to talk about the sorrow of her soul, no matter what he might think about it. He could not be much worse than those who did this to her.  
"I - I was not sure if anyone would find me," she stammered awkwardly. "They have torn the clothes from my body like wild animals ..." She swallowed against the forming tears and stared ashamed at the dark row of buttons that lined his chest in a long and closely spaced series. "It was horrible, I could feel his cock," she finally concluded and trembled. Now it was out and she just waited what would happen, her lips clamped firmly between her teeth.  
Seconds passed before he responded. "You don't have to tell me anything," he said. Quiet and totally unexpected.  
Reliefed, she took it. "But I feel that I have to talk about it. Everything is washing over me."  
He sighed faintly. Then he looked thoughtfully into the space. "There are things that we can not understand, Miss Granger. And things that should not be understood. Each of us has to deal with his own destiny." She lost herself in his voice that gave her a pleasant tingling sensation on her skin, but then his jaw cracked by the pressure he exerted while thinking and she was once ripped out of her lethargy. "You're right, some people behave worse than animals. But you can not change it. Nobody can do that."  
If there was one thing she never expected in the life of Snape, it was understanding. Yet here he sat beside her on the sofa and looked at her like a pillar of strength, without, as he usually did, to punish her with his angry eyes and his angry voice.  
"But you found me and saved me," she went on vigorously. "I owe you my life. Also, you have brought me back my wand ... "  
He snorted unimpressed by his act. "Let it go."  
But Hermione could not do so, as if it all never happened. "I'm serious. You have saved me."  
"If you mean," he said casually.  
She blinked at him. "Do you not want to know how it happened?"  
"I could not have left you there, Granger," he murmured softly, as if he had withdrawn into himself.  
But Hermione did not believe that was all. She had seen his look of pure hatred that had detested what happened. And she had felt as he had pressed her protectively and full of warmth into himself. For her there was no doubt that he had been much more affected by this, as he admitted.  
"As your teacher, I felt responsible for you," he added after a while. But then his eyes sparkled and she recognized an insatiable thirst for revenge. "And as far as your wand - which has not exactly voluntarily come to me ..."  
She swallowed. "I - I guess that you could not do otherwise," she replied meekly.  
So that's all the blood ...  
He was silent.  
"Is it not?" Her eyes revealed that she was expecting a definite answer from him. A response that should give her confirmation and hope. Hope that not all people in these dark hours were only just cruel.  
He looked at her quizzically. How could she only be so sure of what she said? "Miss Granger," he began softly, "you should carefully judge me. You do not know me. And you do not know what I'm capable of and what I've done. It may be that you are longing for a saving anchor. But you will not find it here. Especially not in me."  
Hermione stared at him open-mouthed. "Like you said, you are my teacher. And if you were really so cold hearted, as everyone says, you would have left me there."  
He did not answer and looked decidedly away from her.  
After a while he spoke. "Here. Drink this." He held invitingly a small glass vial towards her that he had conjured out of thin air. The liquid in it shone provocatively as if it should give courage.  
Still, she was skeptical. "What's that?"  
"For the pain."  
Hermione took it from him with restless fingers and put it to her lips. For the pain sounded good. In truth, the deictic tasted disgusting. She choked and saw out of the corner of her eyes that he nodded his head.  
"That's good."

With puckered mouth she gave him back the empty vial which disappeared shortly thereafter into nothingness.  
"I should take you back," he said softly. "Certainly there is someone searching for you."


	5. Stay or go

Chapter 5  
Stay or go

Back? No! Hermione wanted to scream out in desperation, but did not speak. She did not want to go, that was for sure. Immediately fear was widespread in her at the thought of no longer being in his presence, to no longer be safe.  
Snape must have seen the panicked look on her face, because his voice was very gentle as he continued. "Come on, Granger. It's time."  
"No," she called from the depths of her soul. She did not care how ridiculous she sounded like.  
"But you have to ..."  
"No. Until school starts again, is still plenty of time. My parents think anyway, I'm with the Weasleys and the Weasleys think I'm with my parents ... " He frowned, but she would not let him get a word. "Yes, I know. But that's going to happen when an owl is premature unleashed. Anyway, I'd love to stay here, if I may."  
Snape shook his head stubbornly, that his already messy strands got free one more time on their own. "But that's impossible. You can not stay here."  
"Please. I can't deal with everything right now. And I'm afraid I'm not as far to just keep going."  
How hard she tried to give the pleading tone in her voice an effect, he did not respond.  
"We should take you to a doctor, Miss Granger, to see that you lack nothing," he said firmly, without taking his eyes from hers.  
Hermione shuddered. A doctor was the last thing she wanted to see now. "No."  
"But I can not answer for that ..."  
She wiped her nose with the sleeve and cut him off. "Why did you not take me to a doctor equal if you have wanted me to back up anyway?"  
He looked surprised at how vigorously she responded to his attempts to bring her to her senses. "I felt responsible for you, Miss Granger. Is not that obvious? That's why I did what I thought was the best. Also, I was forced to be careful to leave no trace. That's why I brought her here, to a safe place."  
"And that's over now, or what?" She commented toxically.  
He shook his head slowly. "It is time for you to go there, where you belong."  
"Talk is easy," she replied in a trembling voice, before she again looked down at his chest. "I would not go." It was the truth. She could not even make any sense of it, but somehow she felt like to not want to see anyone. Above all, no one could be trusted. Strangely, just Snape had managed to drag the best of this horrible day out for her. She felt safe with him and that was all that mattered at the moment.  
"How do you imagine that, Granger?" He asked, puzzled. The deep crease between his brows worked hard. Apparently he had in all the years as a teacher not done something like that before. No wonder, given the reputation he had among his students.  
"I just want to stay here for a while," she said truthfully. "Nothing more. I have no expectations. Surely not! Also, I can make myself very quietly and you will not even notice that I'm here at all ..."  
He laughed ironically and his face looked younger by many years. "You quietly? Is this a joke? You are hardly able to keep your mouth shut while you lift your finger."  
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. She was indignant, but said nothing. After all, she had a request to him and wanted to take no risks.  
"Above all, I will know that you are there and that's enough to give me a headache."  
"Please," she pleaded.  
But his expression was hard. "This is ridiculous! For how long should this go on?"  
She shrugged as she answered softly. "Until I go back to Hogwarts."  
For a moment he looked as if his eyes would drop out of his head, until he realized that she was serious. He looked down and saw it through to his insistent long strands. "And where do you think, would you sleep?" He breathed in deep tones, which had become almost a seductive effect on her.

Hermione shuddered as she discovered this whole new side on him. But just for a second. "I suppose that's your house?" She had had enough time to look around in this room. And even if she had previously been too upset to think clearly, it was an awareness deep inside of her what it had with this dwelling.  
"Bravo, Miss Granger," he said with clear sarcasm. "You amaze me with your skills. But you may have noticed that this house is barely habitable?"  
"Does it have running hot water?" She asked cautiously.  
He turned his head in anticipation. His eyes flashed. "What's your point?"  
"I interpret that as a yes. Also, you have a magic wand and it should not be too hard to bring it to something."  
A mocking laughter came forth from within him. "Even if I did that, what I have not done within years, as can be seen, I would hate the house."  
She had not expected that. "Why?"  
"That's private," he replied briefly and with a dissatisfied grunt. Inside of him, it clearly worked and Hermione felt that she had struck a nerve. But before she could reach it, he continued. "Have you ever thought that it would be very unprofessional of me to let you stay with me during the holidays?"  
"Why," she asked, blinking innocently.  
He growled. "Is not that obvious?"  
But Hermione shook her head.  
"I'm your teacher."  
So therefore the wind blew. "Right. But like you said, we have holiday ..."  
His black eyes flashed. "Oh, yeah! The whole thing is a conspiracy against me, which is going to cost me my job ... "  
"Nonsense," she said firmly. "Do you think I have brought myself with intent in this situation?"  
He folded his arms across his chest, stiff, the eyebrows drawn. "I honestly did not know what to think. Normally my students avoid my presence."  
"But this is an emergency, Professor," she reminded him urgently.  
"And where does this sudden change of mind com from, Miss Granger, that you just want to live with me?"  
"I dont want to see anyone. That's all. Call me a coward, but I am ashamed of what has happened. These guys ... "  
"Death Eaters, Miss Granger. It was a Death Eater, the others recruits."  
She froze. Then she swallowed. "W-w-wonderful. Anyway, you have saved me. And I feel safe in your neighborhood. And it should stay that way."  
He looked at her in surprise, his eyebrows still hanging precipitously in the air. "I ..."  
She did it equal with a long-drawn "yes".  
"Nothing. Anyway, I can not. That is simply not heard."  
Hermione sounded slightly sour when she answered. "Do you know what that feels like for me? I'm not a piece of meat you can chew and then spit out at will."  
"Break that now!" He cried indignantly. "I've never said that."  
"No? Then show me that I was wrong about you and you are not a bastard, like everyone else always says."  
He laughed bitterly, withdrewn the mouth. "I've never denied that I am a bastard. You can not imagine the horrors I had already commit to people, Miss Granger." He leaned over to her, so close that his nose almost touched her face and she was holding her breath in shock. "So let it go and let me bring you back."  
"... But you - you have saved me," she stammered, confused. Then she gasped, before she was pursuing. "You are none of these monsters ..."  
"No? How do you know that?" He said defiantly, without letting her out of sight.  
He was still so close that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her pupils were circling scared to every pore, every wrinkle, which was marked by his conduct in his face. And they were not a few.  
"What do you think I had to do to get your wand?" She heard him say fervently, which she could not recognize, whether that, whatever he had done, was a pleasure for him, or whether he only played.  
"They're all dead," he added emotionless. The words rolled off of his tongue so skillfully, as if his whole personality was an illusion. At that moment, she realized that he was a master in pretending, which only increased her uncertainty.  
"But ... the ..."  
"Yes?" He waited patiently. But his black eyes glowed.  
Hermione was silent. She did not continue. What could she say about this man? What should she think about him? Especially now that he had revealed that to her, after he had saved her.  
When no answer came, he wiped the long strands from his face that looked once more unkempt than usual. "You see," he said quietly and forcefully, "this is precisely why you can not stay. You are not coming here."  
"But where shall I go?" She asked, confused. "I do not want to see my parents. They are Muggles and I would not be safe ... "  
"I would not even bring you there," he said tersely.  
"Where then? Hogwarts is closed during the summer for the students."  
"I could get through a special permit for you. The house elves are there to keep everything in order ... I remember that you had a good rapport with them. So you would not be alone ... "  
"Thank you too," she cried out angrily. The theme of house elves had become a sore spot for her, since she had to recognize that no one shared her views. "I only wanted to help. I think you should understand that."  
He did not respond when he answered. "Or I'll take you to the Weasleys, where you had actually belonged to ..."  
Immediately, she forgot the elves and put her head forward. "What do you mean?"  
Snape sighed as if in slow motion. Then he began to tell her of Dumbledore's plans, to get her and Harry to the Burrow.  
"Oh." Hermione thought hard and bite continuously on her lip with her teeth. "I'm not sure if I can cope with this ruckus. Do not get me wrong, Professor. The Weasleys are like a second family for me. I would have liked to go to them, but now, for the first time, i need my rest."  
He shook his head, almost amused already. "You're crazy!"  
Hermione lifted her chin in the air. "You think so? You are not used to society, am I right? When did you receive a visit for the last time?"  
He shot her a sparkling look from his dark eyes. "Did not you said you would pretend as if you were not here?"  
Hermione could not believe her luck when she heard those words. He had made his decision without her having noticed when he had been willing to relent. She threw herself forward and embraced him in a fit of euphoria with her arms. "Thank you, Professor!"  
Her arms dug tightly around his neck and Snape stiffened, as he tentatively put a hand on her shoulder blade.  
"Was that really necessary, Granger?"  
She nodded. He seemed, however, as she noted with amusement, as if he could not wait to let her go again. Perhaps the fact that he was not accustomed to be treated like that, was just too much for him.  
"Have you any idea how you want to tell them, where are you?" He asked with a slightly unhappy expression on the otherwise dominated face as she was sitting re-mannered next to him on the sofa. "At some point, Dumbledore will send someone to pick you up."  
"Do not worry," she said, smiling. "I'll write a second letter to Ron, in which I'll explain, that I am spontaneous traveling on vacation with my parents. It will not take long, until Molly is going to tell the other members of the Order."


	6. Right and wrong

Chapter 6  
Right and wrong

Hermione was surprised to find something with Professor Snape, which she had never before thought would be possible: concern. Especially because of that she felt that her decision was correct. She had finally been found by him and thus influenced her fate.  
He was by nature anything but simple, and it was not long until she had the idea that he had probably victims as her seen before, but apparently none of them had been his pupil.  
Snape for his part, tried indeed to not show it, but she could see that he felt affected. He could have turned his back on her and could have left her. But he had not done it. And here she was, in his house, which seemed as unreal as he himself. The house, in which she would spend her holidays.  
A short time after he had apparently enough of talking to her, he led her upstairs to the bathroom, so she could freshen up.  
She had to admit that he was right. It was by far the most horrible house she had ever seen. Everything looked dark and musty.  
Even the wooden staircase, leading to the first floor, the bathroom and the bedroom looked anything but confidence. If she had to go over a wooden bridge at the edge of a precipice, it would hardly have been a stranger feeling as at the moment she set foot on the first step.  
Then they stood together in the bathroom door. Through a small window was some daylight shining into the interior of the room and lit it unfavorably.  
Snape, who towered over Hermione in his black clothes and with his long black hair, gave her the feeling, as if it would not matter to him. Finally, he had warned her what she would find there. "In the cabinet are towels," he said curtly. "If you need anything, just call."  
It was strange to hear such a thing out of his mouth, but after what had happened to her, she was not surprised any more. "Thanks," she replied quietly, before the door slammed shut behind him and she was alone.  
The first look in the mirror, which has probably, like the rest of the area, already survived its best time, was a shock for Hermione. Her eyes were heavy and swollen. They had lost their luster. And in return won something dark and sad.  
No wonder he had behaved so compassionately.  
She sniffed again and felt the urge of her tears to come out.  
"Not now," she swore. Finally, she was not a little kid anymore.  
Bitterly she fought it before she withdrew from her reflection and turned on the faucet. It lasted until it was warm and Hermione sank the plug in the sink. Her fingers hurt. The water burned at various locations on the scraped skin, in the attempts to take the first injury and the bloody crusts in inspection.  
But that was the least of her evils. Her entire lower body felt numb, the horrible stuff that Snape had given her, did not fail its effect. She was rubbed raw, no question. And he knew.  
My God! How could it come to this?  
She carefully put his black cloak aside and peeled off her clothes until she stood before the mirror, with only underwear, shirt and bra underneath.  
Already she saw bruises and swellingss on her extremities. How should it look like only in her interior?  
Her fingers slid the panties to the side and felt their way slowly forward.  
Was that really her body? Everything felt so strange, as if it belonged to someone else.  
Sadly, she found that she was not even in the mood for revenge. No feeling in the world could describe how she felt. Her thoughts in her head were confused.  
Had Snape really killed the guys?  
Question after question teamed up in her, to which she could find no answer.  
Completely finished with her nerves she finally collapsed on the floor.

The next thing Hermione felt were two strong hands grabbing her by the shoulders. Gently yet firmly.  
She could not see anything, her tears and her tangled hair blocked her view. But she could feel it.  
Heat. Closeness.  
Her pulse was racing. What happened to her?  
Snape's fingers closed around her arm as he pulled her to him. Not to put her on her feet, but in order to embed her into his chest.  
She could smell his scent, which was at least as disturbing as the fact that he had found her half naked lying on the floor for the second time within a day and safed her.  
What had happened to her? Why had she lost control of herself and her will? Ironically her!  
His embrace continued. There was nothing wrong with it, unless you wanted to think about who he was. Her teacher. Dumbledore's spy. A Death Eater.  
She felt he hugged her like there would be no tomorrow. Not in an offensive way, but protective. By God, she knew the difference.  
His breathing was deep and quiet and gave her peace. It was the most wonderful hug that she had ever felt. Loving care and understanding. A state in which she felt safe, as bizarre as it was, to be here in union with him.  
After a few minutes her pulse calmed and she relaxed in his arms. She let her head fall into deep depression on his shoulder.  
Neither of them said anything. But that made it no easier. She wished he would make the start to finally disrupt this eerie silence, that sawed uncomfortable on her nerves.  
Instead, he sat silently with her on the cold tiles, and held her, the only thing he could do for her.


	7. Guilt

Chapter 7  
Guilt

Hermione envied Snape for his calmness and composure which he held. She although did not got away from the idea that it was all staged. Probably no one before had ever been able to look at him from her perspective, but she noticed that it was working in him, and that not a little.  
She could not say how long she had been lying in his lap, in his arms. And it also seemed to play no role. All that mattered was the fact that he was there for her, even though he should not have been.  
"I want to apologize for the inconvenience," she said finally, to maintain the shape.  
Then she noticed that he looked at her. His eyes were half closed.  
"You must not do that," came his deep voice. "It's not your fault."  
She exchanged furtive glances with him, his face remained expressionless. The black of his eyes shone bright and unfathomable and for a brief moment she was lost in it and forgot her worries.  
"You'll need something to wear," he murmured eventually.  
"And?"  
"We should get you something that fits."  
"Oh."  
Hermione grabbed his long cloak, wrapped herself in it and slipped away a piece from him. She knew very well that she looked miserably in her torn and dirty clothes. However, he made no attempt to move, almost as if he did not know what to do. It was obvious that he had seen and experienced things that he did not want to testify. Especially when it was about her.  
Ashamed, she threw her arms around her knees, which she drew close to your body. She was aware that he had witnessed her collapse and she wondered what he might think about her. After all, he was her professor and had taught her in the past few years and since this it was not as though they were two strangers.  
The sadness came over her so suddenly that she had the feeling that she could not look into his eyes. Slowly she lowered her eyes and bit her lip.  
"You can not preserve me from it," she said absently. "It's too late."  
He swallowed and sounded clearly hurt as he answered. "Do not say such a thing."  
Hermione was almost frightened at the change in his tone. He and hurt? What was wrong with that? She was the one who had been abused by wild beasts. Nevertheless she saw the facts that he had brought his life to the game, to save her and bring her back her wand.  
"I had to try at least," he murmured softly, his gaze into the distance.  
At that moment, she could see that it hurt him much more than she had anticipated. It was not the first time that he had witnessed something like that.  
"Who," she asked, alarmed. "Who was it?"  
His gaze hit her hard. "A girl, very much like you."  
Hermione opened her mouth. "It was not your fault," she returned softly, just as you did, when you wanted to express sympathy, not knowing how to do it best.  
"It was my fault."  
She looked at him intently as they waited to see what he would say. His way of looking at things, she was fascinated in a startling way. Professor Snape was not one to let himself be fooled. He had predictive capabilities that others could only dream about. At this moment, however, he looked lost as much as she did.  
"I have not saved her."  
"But you have not done this to her." She knew. It could not be otherwise. Nevertheless, she wanted confirmation that she was not mistaken.  
"I did not help her and that makes me just as guilty as everyone else."  
He turned his eyes away from her.  
"No."  
Hermione gently stretched out her hand to him and put it on his.  
At first she felt that he intended to withdraw it. Yet he did not.  
"I ought to have tried it and did not do it," he said, barely audible.  
She was so deeply moved by his confession that she forgot everything else. The reason why she was here, her pain, everything. She felt connected to him, as close as never before.  
"Look at me," she demanded softly, almost as if she would owe him something, that she was in a strange way.  
Slowly he looked up. His long hair fell over his eyes and Hermione had the impression that he did this on purpose to hide his expression from her.  
Her mouth felt dry and still she wanted to know the truth. "Would it have been of use, if you had tried to save her?"  
He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.  
"Look. Presumably you would then not be here."  
He laughed bitterly, so that she shuddered. "We will never know. They have killed her."  
It was hard, what he had said. And also full of feeling. To be a Death Eater, was not something that he accepted lightly.  
Only laboriously she recovered herself, squeezed his hand and was surprised when he responded to her touch. Eventually she found her hand in his.

"I trust you, Professor. You did nothing wrong. You have saved me. And I'm sure you would have done the same thing back then, if you had had the opportunity."  
His eyes flashed, she could even see it through the black curtain of his strands. "When I was one of them, I was forced to do terrible things, Miss Granger. This can never be made up for it."  
She nodded hesitantly. "Perhaps that is so. We all make mistakes. But just now I could see that you regret it. Am I right?"  
He did not answer and looked decidedly away from her. Then his calm character began to move and he stood up. Hermione could not help it, she had to watch him.  
All of a sudden, he was back. Tall, slim and incredibly unapproachable. If she had not had his black cloak with her, the image of the dark bat would have been complete.  
"Come, Miss Granger. We should go before it gets dark."

Carefully, he held out his hand, which she stared at in astonishment. It was that hand, which was only recently so warm and caring to her.  
"Why do you wait?" He asked with a broken smile. "If I had been about to bite you, I would have done it long ago."  
Hesitantly she reached for it and he was helping her to her feet. Again she felt the warmth that radiated from him and an electric shock ran through her body.  
The tentative smile on his face brought everything around her in a completely different light. "It works."

Clumsily she stood before him and was not sure what she should do. Professor Snape had peculiarities, she did not know on him. His gestures were strange for someone like him and Hermione could barely handle it. Moreover, she felt ashamed. Her clothes, she was wearing on her body, were not precisely adapted in order to go out, onto the street, except for the fact that a shopping spree with Snape far exceeded her expectations.  
"What are you doing?"  
"We're going shopping. As I said."  
She blinked, still incredulous. "We? Where to?"  
"Only a couple of blocks away. There is a supposedly good second-hand store in the vicinity."  
Hermione frowned. "You buy your stuff there?"  
He raised his eyebrows with a mixture of curiosity and amazement. "No. But the Muggles who live around here. But until then you have to handle with my stuff. The bedroom has a closet with civilian dress. I'm sure there's something in it, which can be transformed in your size."  
Puzzled, she shook her head and followed him out the door to his bedroom - as if everything would not be strange enough by now.


	8. Questions

Chapter 8  
Questions

The hissing of two warring cats rang through the cool evening air and inevitably Hermione winced. Without intending it, she pressed closer to her dark companion, who shook his head and insisted to go on, without pausing in his long strides.  
"Sorry," she whispered almost inaudibly, after it had become aware that no danger threatened.  
"All right, Granger?", His deep voice boomed back.  
She nodded. But she was clearly uncomfortable when they, in the beginning of the dark, were on the way back to his house.  
"Good."  
He exuded a strange silence and Hermione went close to him, then again pressed to him in panic, when the crackle of a motorcycle came to them from afar.  
That was quite a while working this way, with every sound she heard, since they had left the store with two shopping bags in her hands.  
Every rustle, every breath of wind, made sure that her neck tied together and she could barely breathe. Memories of the ordeal through which she had gone through, were spreading inwardly of her.  
"There is no reason to be so nervous, Miss Granger," Snape said dryly. "There's no magic around and magicians drift usually also not around here."  
She swallowed hard. How easy for him to say something like that, after all, he had not been the one, they had abused the night before.  
"Nevertheless, the area looks not very trustworthy ...," she muttered into the old corduroy jacket, which he had bought for her. Of his money.  
Hermione tried not to think about. A guilty conscience was the last thing she could need at the moment. She also tried desperately to not break her head over the fact, what a strange sight they would give, while they went next to each other through the streets, with her having trouble keeping up with him.  
He, tall and slender, dressed from head to toe in black clothing, wearing the infamous bat-cape on his body that ballooned with every step behind him. And she, fearfully at his side and yet anxious, not to press herself too much to his body.  
Timidly she looked down at herself. The clothes she wore were not just a dream for a girl of her age, but on the whole, she had never cared much for fashion. After all, she tried to calm herself, she could, if they were _at home_, discard the worn and transformed Slytherin sweater from him.  
"How can you be so calm? I started to doubt, if running along this road would be wise, before it got dark, but now everything seems a lot worse."  
He slowed down when he heard that she was completely out of breath. "You get used to it when you grow up here."  
She said nothing. Apparently, he tried to make the best of the situation, in which she had brought him. How could she bring it to her heart, to be so rude and hold him to account for his origin?  
"Where are we, anyway?", She asked with a barely perceptible smile.  
"Spinner's End", he replied curtly.  
Hermione swallowed. She had read about it. But that she would put even one foot in this area, she would have never thought possible.  
"You have agreed because of the girl to keep me here, right?" She asked gently to lighten the mood a little.  
But the shot was clearly backfired. As suddenly as she had finished, he stopped and Hermione regretted her question without really knowing why. But the expression on his face was anything but reassuring.  
It seemed as if she had made yet another sore spot.  
"You are not a pet, Miss Granger," he hissed at her and his black eyes burned themselves in her relentless. "I have not _kept_ you here, but did you a favor, if you remember."  
Frightened, she nodded up to him. In this position, he seemed a lot more impressive to her, as was the case during the lessons in his classroom. After all, she had broken the rules that forbade it students and teachers to meet each other in private space.  
"Good," he added sternly and sealed the end of the conversation, with his lips pressed together to narrow lines.  
Was it really so easy for him, to choke her off?  
Hermione could not believe it. She had seen the look in his eyes that had betrayed only too clearly the guilty that plagued him.  
"As I said," she replied shyly, "I do not think there was anything you could have done for her."  
He snorted irritably and was about to clench his fists. "What happened at that time is not part of our agreement, Miss Granger." Every word sounded like an unpleasant hissing, contributing not to calm her racing pulse. "I advise you, therefore, leave it at that and not snoop around in my past."  
Hermione bit her tongue. Had it not been so cold, you might have thought, in the dim light of the street lamps, could be seen small puffs of smoke streaming from his mouth.  
Again she nodded, before she began to speak softly. "Excuse me, professor. I did not mean to offend you. But I thought it might be easier for us if we would share some information with each other, to make the holidays more bearable for both of us."  
Snape stared at her suddenly. Then, slowly, he twisted his mouth into a wry grin.

She was shivering.

"And what, did you think, it is justified to start just that?"  
Hermione wrapped her arms around her body. Everything suddenly felt cold.  
It had been hard enough for her to ask him, not to send her away. How could she tell him there, easily and understanding what she had in mind?  
"I think I know what she's been through," she said brokenly. "You yourself have mentioned that she was a lot like me ..."  
Snape had contracted his eyebrows narrow and seemed to wait for further explanations from her, but Hermione had difficulty to clearly say it.  
"I - I was lucky, Professor. Had you not been, I would not be here. These men would have killed me, right? "  
Finally the gesture around his eyes relaxed. Even the perpetually dark and deep furrow between his brows lost its intensity.  
"I understand your concern," he said simply. "But if you do not mind, Granger, we need to see, to get out of here. This is not something that you should discuss in public. I also like not to draw unnecessary attention to me, while I am standing here with you and two shopping bags."  
"Of course," she blurted out in a hurry. "I feel the same way."  
Together they put their way through the darkness, withoug changing one more word.

Arriving at home, Hermione disappeared into the bathroom, to put on the new clothes they had bought. It was strange, but as soon as she stood before the old mirror, she was no longer in such a hurry to get rid of the sweater she had borrowed from him. Somehow, she felt comfortable in it.  
Lost she looked at the mirror image, which looked towards her as she gently was stroking the contours of her face with her index finger.  
Her eyes still looked puffy and dark, and inside she felt as if she would never laugh again.  
Still she could smell Snape's scent that had settled over his embrace in her hair. Perhaps she would never understand what had happened at that moment, in which she had been pressed as helpless as a child to his chest, but he was there for her and gave her strength. What more could she want?  
It was clear in any case, that she, at first, had not to go to the Weasleys, what was a great relief for her in this circumstances.  
Snape's quiet and yet sympathetic way was significantly better than the usual hustle and bustle of the Burrow. It was almost impossible, in a place like this, which was inhabited by so many people, to find peace.  
Sighing, Hermione slipped out of the stuff and turned on the water of the shower. Only when it was almost too hot already, she climbed into the tub. She longed for warmth and cleanliness. But to feel the water on her bruised skin was a strange feeling.  
Even as she was about to see her body, tears formed in her.  
Tears of sadness and anger.  
Then she was swallowed by the hot steam.

"Can you cook?"  
"W-what?"  
Hermione stared at him in disbelief as he pulled out a flyer of a stack of books and than came to a stop next to her silently.  
"I wanted to know if you can cook," he replied with raised eyebrows, while he sat down in safe distance beside her on the sofa. "This is a very simple question."  
She was taken aback. Still, it was unusual for her, to see him outside of Hogwarts by her side. "Well, not very much ..."  
He smiled slyly and unfolded the leaflet. "I thought so. There is anyway not much productive at this house. Thus we are left with no other choice than to let anything come from the Chinese."  
"Th-the Chinese?"  
"Yes. It would probably not make sense, to do another trip with you in the darkness, that exists out there, right?"  
There it was again: Snape's usual sarcasm, to which she was so very tired. As a precaution, she did her best to ignore his reference. "But why the Chinese?"  
"The Chinese delivery service is the only one who dares to come in this street."  
Skeptical she blinked at him. "And you are sure that's not up to you?"  
He lowered his hands and put his head expectantly to the side. "What do you mean?"  
"Well, your clothing does not look very conventional, if I may say that."  
"Ah, there the wind blows. Do not worry, Granger, you would wonder what is going on around here. Believe me, I am the least of all problems in this road, because I spend most of my time at Hogwarts and am not at home."  
After he had taken a look at the menu, which was printed on the leaflet, he held the wiping to her nose.  
"Here, take it."  
She picked it listlessly. "I do not think I can eat something right now."  
From the corner of her eyes she could see how hard he crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, yes you can. I will not allow you to refuse to eat."  
Hermione stared at him open-mouthed. "And what are you going to do?" She asked irritably. "I have no appetite at times, Professor."  
He rolled his eyes warningly. "Be careful, Granger. Since you are now in my care, I will also ensure that you are well. Do not force me to bring magic to use. Understood?"  
She realized that he would leave no room for further discussions and looked down at the menu.  
Snape nodded attentively with his head. "Exactly so, Miss Granger."  
In less than a minute she had chosen and gave him back the leaflet. "Chicken with sweet and sour sauce."  
"The same as I take," he said shortly.  
"Fine. I did not think that you have the same eating habits as I do, Professor."  
"Do not worry, Granger. I am sure that this is an exception today and we are still leading the odd discussion about what to eat and when."  
Hermione did not elaborate on it. Instead, she employed a different problem. "And now you send out an owl, or what?" She asked curiously.  
He shook his head vehemently. "What are you thinking! We have to preserve the shape, to not attract attention, Granger."  
She pursed her forehead. "What will you do then, Professor? Give smoke signals?"  
"Do not be silly," he growled sullenly. "We will use a phone. You should probably know what that is, or not?"  
Hermione swallowed. "You have a telephone?"  
Once again, he rolled his eyes. "Muggle neighborhood. Remember?"  
Hermione was relieved when Snape got up from the sofa to make the appointment. He was right, she had to eat.  
At the precise moment, in which he had kept the menu before her nose, she had noticed that she had not eaten since yesterday. Throughout the day she had spent time, thinking about her situation, without coming to a reasonable explanation. She had cried her eyes red and had clung frightened to her Savior. With the result that he had decided out of guilt to let her stay with him during the holidays.  
It was strange how life played. Until recently, her world was still in order, as far as one in view of the changes since Voldemort's return could talk about.  
Basically, no one knew what he had to expect. But she was a student and should not be the one on whose back the feuds of the Wizards were held.  
No matter how she tried to look at things, Snape was her savior and she was indebted to him. The least she could do, was to bow to his rules and to follow his instructions. But was she even able to eat something? Slowly but surely, she feel that the pain came back in her abdomen. The effect of the disgusting stuff, that he had given her, had gradually subsided, which was not exactly a good sign.


	9. Dreams

Chapter 9  
Dreams

It felt strange, as he adopted himself late at night in the room where he had placed her.  
But Hermione cared little about it. She was glad to be here. Everything else, who she was, who he was, did not matter.  
"Thanks for everything. This food was so completely different than anything I had expected."  
"I feel the same," he replied shortly. Then he turned around, ready to leave her alone.  
But Hermione was not ready as he left. She did not wanted to be alone, did not wanted to be afraid of the fear, she knew that was everywhere with her.  
"Professor? Wait!"  
He spun around and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"  
"You would tell me, if you'd go away, right?"  
He bowed slightly as he stood in the doorway, almost like a gentleman from the past. "If you wish."  
"Please."  
He nodded slightly. "Sleep well, Granger."  
But Hermione's first night in Spinner's End was cruel to her.  
Not because of Snape. And even though she had been in his old and hated youth room, which was rather ironic in itself, considering what it had to have about this strange house itself, which he paid for so little attention as possible.  
She had to admit that he had proven to be much more hospitable, as she could have expected.  
He was quiet, so unspeakably silent, like a human being could be. Probably he was the calmest and most isolated person she had ever met. Despite everything, he was polite and courteous, his posture erect, his every movement graceful, on an almost inhuman way.  
Perhaps this was one of those aspects that ensured that she felt safe with him and had been afraid to go to the Weasleys during the holidays.  
Still, there were things that troubled her. Things that pursued her now in the dark.  
It took already quite a while before she had dared to close her eyes. She was tired, but also scared and eventually she fell into a fitful sleep and felt so lonely and lost, as in a cold winter night. Fearing that the horror would never end, she was trapped in her dreams.  
She shouted with all the strength of her lungs, as Snape, in the middle of the night, entered her room and pulled her out of the bed.  
"No! Let go of me!"  
"Granger," he said, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Wake up!"  
But she could not hear him, so deep she had withdrawn into herself.  
She thrashed and screamed as she felt someone holding her, not realizing who it was.  
"No!"  
_She could feel the hot, sharp pain with each of his thrusts with which he pushed himself deeper and deeper forward into her soft stiffened body._  
And she did not stop crying.  
"Granger!" Boomed his voice impatiently.  
But she could not hear him.  
She did not know that it was a dream, a mere memory. It felt too real.  
"Damn it, Granger! Wake up!"  
Snape shook her tighter, but she did not react to it.  
"Come on," he hissed. "Do not do this to me!"  
He was transferred involuntarily back to a time that he had hidden from his consciousness with all his might.  
A time, when he was young and naive. A time, in which Voldemort has dominated him, without that he could do something about it.  
Different from today. He had learned to put defences up against him, to close himself against him.  
Full of rage, he dragged her out of bed, behind him, out of the room, and with him into the bathroom.  
"Damn it, Granger! Do not force me to do that! Come on - wake up!"  
When she still did not respond to him, he lifted her over the edge of the tub and pressed her to the ground.  
She just kept yelling.  
"Merlin, help me," he muttered, shaking his head.  
With one bound he was beside her in the tub and turned on the faucet without hesitation.  
Freezing big drops from the shower trickled down on both of them and it was not long until Hermione was back with him.  
"Snape?"  
"It seems," he hissed and shook a load of water from his hair. His mood was anything but good.  
"Wh-what happened?" She whispered anxiously.  
Her eyes were wide with panic, as she saw him bent over her.  
Finally, he released her and Hermione's frantic breathing seemed to calm down a bit as she looked incredulously at his black pupils.  
He snorted and moved away a bit from her. "It's about time ..."  
"What do you mean? Professor! What happened?"  
Gradually, she got a bad feeling, as she sat crouched and soaking wet beside him in the tub, but he wasted no time and explained to her.  
"You had a seizure, Granger. One of the bad kind."  
"What?" She could not believe. A seizure? What did he mean?  
"A nightmare," he said tersely. "You did not wake up."  
That sounded plausible.  
But why she sat beside him in the tub, wet and wearing a nightgown that clung very unflattering on her, while he, unlike her, was wearing his usual black stuff without running the risk of being exposed?  
"What have you done to me, Professor?" She asked confused and put her arms on each other across the chest.  
He snorted dissatisfied. "I was forced to wake you. What do you think?"  
"Why?"  
"As I told you," he pressed forward with difficulty, "you had a nightmare and did not want to wake up. You could have hurt yourself while you were beating and screaming around."  
At last it seemed to dawn her that his intentions had been anything other than malicious. "I have – have I hurt you?"  
He shook his head. "No. Do not mention it."  
"I'm sorry."  
"Nothing happened."  
She blinked at him quizzically, as she felt all the water on herself that had soaked her from head to toe. In disbelief she sagged and leaned her head on his shoulder, just as if it were the most natural act in the world, being so close to him.  
He winced. It surprised him, that she came so close to him voluntarily. But she was so distraught that she did not notice.  
"I can not remember anything."  
Her hands brushed back her untidy strands, while she stared up at him as if she was waiting for him, having a plausible explanation for everything.  
"That's not unusual in your case," he said reassuringly. "Probably a self-defense mechanism of your consciousness."  
Speechless, she opened her mouth again.  
"Are you feeling better?"  
She trembled visibly, though she could hear a strange concern in his voice and wrapped her arms more tightly around her body than before. "It's so cold ..."  
Snape straightened up and turned on the hot water.  
Finally she seemed to relax.  
"Thank you."  
He nodded silently, staring at the wall, as if he did not quite know what to say.  
Hermione felt the same. Even she knew not how to go on.  
"I'm sorry that I was not there earlier," he said finally, after an eternity had passed.  
"What?" She did not know what to say, she was so overwhelmed by his words. "You have done what you could."  
He slowly shook his head. "No." It sounded weak and strange, just not like him.  
"What do you mean? Did you know that that would happen?"  
Panic and fear was evident in her eyes and he looked away quickly, on the cold stone wall in front of him.  
"Not exactly." He let out a sigh, deeply and tragic. "They had talked about some Muggle, but I did not think it would be you. I came to see if I could do something, something that was very careless ..."  
His voice trailed off and he stopped. Seconds passed in which it was completely silent between them.  
"I came too late."  
It took her almost to the brink of despair, to hear him disturbed and helpless.  
"No." She shook her head. "No, you did not come too late. Whatever happened, you have saved my life."  
He laughed bitterly and rasping. "Saved ..."  
"Stop it," she asked with unusual harshness in her voice. "I do not want to hear anything more about it. You are not one of them. They are different."  
"Is that so?" He asked, barely audible, with raised eyebrows.  
She froze when she heard the cold sarcasm in his voice.  
Not him. Not her professor, she prayed. It could not be that he should be just as they were!  
"I told you that I was forced to do bad things, Miss Granger."  
"No," she cried, but he did not stop.  
"The girl, I think, I even do not remember her name ..."  
She swallowed hard. They had forgotten about her, worse, displaced her.  
Would they do the same to her? Not remember her, if she had gone?  
"Why," she asked in a whisper. Her throat felt dry as dust, although they sat in a pool of warm water that was still running smoothly down on their wet bodies.  
"I had to keep going," he said simply.  
Then he looked at her and suddenly his eyes glittered with a variety of new emotions that she had never before seen on his face.  
Embarrassment. Confusion. Remorse.  
It was one of those intimate moments between them, which she did not want to stop. The sense of security he gave her, that she does not want to miss.  
Never again.  
How was it that she had just fled in Snape's care? He was right, she did not know him. Of course, he had saved her. But was that a reason to pull him even deeper into the matter with her?  
Had he not done enough for her? How could she also be responsible, be the cause for him, to not get his sleep?  
Slept he at all?  
After all what was said in school about him, the question was justified.  
Furious, she chewed on her lip. It was ridiculous to worry about it right now and so she strove hard to return to her attempts to get a clear head.  
No! She trusted him.  
She knew that he had saved her, without thinking.  
Huged her and pressed her to himself.  
Once.  
Twice.  
Again and again.  
"I'm sorry that I was so stunned," she said sheepishly, looking carefully at him.  
He turned his head towards her and looked at her with his watchful dark eyes. Then he nodded. "It's all right."  
Hermione looked down. She did not know if she could stand it any longer, to look him in the eyes. "No. It's not. I know very well what I owe you."  
He pushed his hand through the wet strands. "I said it's good, Granger. Let's leave it at that, okay?"  
Hermione swallowed. She could feel his piercing gaze on her face. Slowly she looked back up at him and nodded.  
"Good." He sighed and stretched his arms. "I'd better go," he finally said, when he realized, how odd it was to sit with her in the bathtub.  
Hermione nodded curtly, watching him as he sat up.  
Everything was dripping as he rose and with the heavy wet stuff, that clung tightly to him, climbed out of the tub.


End file.
